Dark & Light
by KattitudeKate
Summary: The events of Cold War keep Clara awake at night. The Doctor is in. Does our Time Lord and the Woman Twice Dead have more similarities than originally thought? 11/Clara comfort one-shot. Rated T on the safe side for violence.


**A/N:** Hello all! This is my first published Doctor Who fanfiction inspired from the newest episode of Season 7, Cold War. If you haven't seen it, it doesn't really give any spoilers about the episode. I don't own the Doctor or Clara, but let it be known I am SHIPPING THEM SO HARD RIGHT NOW! Woo! I also don't own King Arthur, or the awesome song I high jacked from that movie. Enjoy!

**Dark & Light**

She could still hear it, that guttural scream before they had run towards the distress, towards that room in the Russian submarine painted red. Clara sat huddled in her new room in the TARDIS. Amid the satin light blue pillows and yellow bedspread she looked small, terribly small. They had just returned from their adventure in the Cold War and their run in with the Ice Warrior Grand Marshal Skaldek. It'd taken them a while to get back to the TARDIS in the South Pole, three days to be precise. That made it two nights now. Two nights she had gone without sleep. Course not that she had let on. But the memory, the image of those men, in the regular room now red-

No, no she wouldn't think about it.

Dazed, Clara sat huddled in her room, her knees drawn up to her chest. She gripped her knees, her knuckles white as her eyes danced to-and-fro around the confines of her foreign new bedroom. It was inviting, lit now only by the soft glow of candlelight and the walls covered with pictures of Earth places she wanted to visit. Her childhood book, _101 Places to See_, lay on the bed with her. Yet neither of them gave her any sense of familiarity, any sense of comfort.

A shadow flickered errantly in the corner of her eye and Clara let out a shriek. She clasped a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes, praying desperately that this night would just end. That she could just go off somewhere….To another tiring, hair raising adventure with the Doctor.

Who was she kidding? She was exhausted.

A loud thunk sounded in the hall and the door to her room slammed open with a flourish. Clara shrieked again, scrambling back on the bed at the noise, only to see the Doctor standing in the door way, wide eyed, hair mussed and sonic wielded at the ready. His jacket was gone and it was obvious from his hair he'd been in bed himself.

"What is it? What's here? What's wrong?" The Doctor demanded, flourishing the sonic this way and that. "I heard you scream."

Clara's cheeks tinged pink and she looked down, "I-It's nothing. Just thought I saw something's, all." She said lowly. She downcast her eyes, turning them back to her book. The Doctor stared at her, at the tense way she sat, as he slowly lowered the sonic. She was as rigid as a board.

"You sure?" he inquired, slowly.

"I'm fine." Clara continued tersely. She bit her bottom lip, chewing on it absently. There was no way, no way at all, she was going to tell the Doctor what was wrong. She _would not tell him_ that she hadn't slept in two days, about the nightmares she had every time she tried. No. His opinion meant gold to her, and she would not prove herself to be a cowardly companion. He'd boot her out. She'd prove her worth. Somehow.

"Well if you're sure I'll just-"

Clara's eyes shown with tears as the Doctor turned to leave, a quiet sob escaping her lips. She covered her mouth and he turned again, immediately, staring at her concerned. His hands fidgeted, fingers drumming uncertainly as he entered the room, nearing her bed.

"Clara…" he began softly, the compassion in his voice hurting her worse. She only shook her head furiously, ducking it down to her legs as hot tears fell down her face. She felt the bed move underneath her as the Doctor sat down beside her. She felt his hand rest on her back soothingly, giving her an awkward pat. Maybe…

She looked up at him, the shame burning on her face, her lashes wet with tears, "I can see them." She whispered to him. "Every time I close my eyes."

"Who?" He asked. His nervous fidgeting over having to comfort a girl, something that was far out of his comfort zone, decreasing as his curiosity gave way.

"Those poor soldiers. The two of them that S-Skaldek _mutilated._" She spit the word out as she stared at him, her chocolate brown eyes wide, shaking. He could see the picture himself, reflected in her eyes. The navy uniforms of the Soviets coated in blood, their faces slashed to ribbon and their entrails pulled out. The way the younger one's head had been bashed in to expose his brain. He had just repressed it, compartmentalized in to one of the many horrors he had seen in his thousand years or so of life. He hadn't thought about how the sight might have affected someone younger, someone new. And from the way Clara was shaken and from the brown cast under her eyes, it was obvious it had affected her.

"Yes, that was unfortunate." The Doctor mussed absently.

"Unfortunate?!" Clara snapped, her head jerking upright to glare at him fully. "They were dismembered! It was a bit beyond unfortunate…"

"Well, yes I suppose it was-"

"What the bloody hell kind of things happen on your travels that the dismemberment of two human beings only registers as _unfortunate?"_ Clara asked, her temper flaring in her eyes.

The Doctor's lips twitched at her fiery stubbornness but he bit it back, knowing his amusement would only make her angrier.

"Clara, adventuring with me," he began slowly "_Traveling_ with me," he amended, "It's not always the safest thing. I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't dangerous. And sometimes, not all the time mind you, but _sometimes_…" He trailed again seeing the look on her face, the hope beginning to darken, "People die."

"It's not fair." She whispered, looking down.

"No it's not." The Doctor agreed.

"How do you deal with it?" Clara asked softly.

"Deal with what?" he asked, looking down at her.

"The nightmares." She said, so quietly he could barely hear her.

"I don't sleep." He shrugged, running a hand through his hair, his posture sagging.

"You don't sleep." Clara repeated dumbly, staring at him.

"W-Well I mean, I do _sleep." _The Doctor explained. "Just not very much. Don't have to, don't _need _to." He stressed arrogantly before adding, "You know…Time Lord." He waved off the bit of information like it was trivial. Clara slowly slid out of her huddle, staring at him.

"But when you do?" she pressed.

"Then I see them too. Except I see so much more." He said softly, hopelessly.

"Well there's no reason to make it a contest." Clara grumbled, staring at him with a smirk. The Doctor chuckled lowly, watching as her face fell pensive again, her eyes on the corner of a photo, sticking out from the blue binding of the book. She pulled it out slowly.

"My mom used to sing, you know." she said softly, "I used to be afraid of the dark, of getting lost in it. She used to sing at night to me, like the Professor had wanted me to. Well, she tried really. She was a bit tone deaf…and would forget a lot of the words. But she tried." Clara explained, her eyes held on the picture of her mother. She was smiling up at her father, both of them so young, so in love. Clara loved it, the way her mother's face had just a sort of glow to it when she looked at her father. 'Real love does that to you,' she heard her say.

"So did mine." The Doctor said quietly, "Except she'd sing stories."

"About what?" Clara asked as she carefully shut the book, tucking her mother safely away.

"Oh, all the classics of course. You know, like _Snow White and the Seven Portal Keys_, _Goldilocks and the three Snorflaks_, the history of our people. She had a way of making you feel like you were there." The Doctor said with a faraway look in his eye. Clara shifted next to him, dipping her feet under the covers.

"Not sure if I'd wanna be there." Clara giggled. The Doctor smiled strangely for a moment.

"Would you sing one though? To me?" she asked curiously.

"Oh no, no, no. I'm a rubbish singer. You really don't…" the Doctor began weakly.

"Course I do or I wouldn't 'ave asked." Clara corrected him petulantly. The Doctor sighed, shooing her with his hands.

"What?"

"Well scoot over, Oswald, I'm about two inches from falling off to my death." He teased. Clara smiled, scooting over. The Time Lord collapsed on top of the covers next to her, settling himself in comfortably.

"Lovely mattress you've got here. The TARDIS picks nothing but the best you know. Why I bet-"

"Doctor." Clara said sternly, staring at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"The song?" she reminded him, her eyebrows raised. The Doctor huffed, looking at her.

"Oh very well, Clara. Blimey, not much distracts you does it?" he grumbled, rummaging through his coat pockets until his hand clasped around the cool metal of his screwdriver. He pulled it out and began fidgeting, messing with the various settings.

"What are you doing?" Clara asked, moving a pillow to prop herself up as she stared at him.

"Patience." He warned her under his breath.

"Doctor," Clara began warningly, "If you're trying to get out of singing-"

"There we are!" he exclaimed brightly. He pressed the button and the room shifted in a haze of red and oranges and yellows, swirling around them. Clara bolted upright, staring around them.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her eyes darting around them.

"Just changing the TARDIS template on the room." He yelled over the winds. The bed sheets ruffled, fluttering under the rush of colors.

"To what?!" She yelled back. But the winds had died down, revealing a change. Her bed was all that remained the same. It was as if her bed had been transported into the middle of a field. Warmth surrounded her, yet she knew the climate hadn't changed. It seemed daylight in the red orange sky, yet stars burned white above her head. Around her the fields of grass were red with flecks of yellow and white flowers. Rocks and mountains with the colors of the Grand Canyon peaked with snow in the distance and on the horizon she could see it, the city in what looked like a giant glass dome.

"What is this place?" Clara asked, her eyes darting around her. The grass moved, as if carried by winds, winds that shown orange despite not being felt by her face.

"Your room, Clara." The Doctor sniffed, as if she was dim.

"You know what I mean."

"Home." He murmured lowly. "This is my home."

"What's it called?" she asked softly.

"Galifrey." The Doctor replied.

"Why didn't you just take me there for real?" Clara asked, turning to him.

A faraway look gleamed in his eyes, burning bright in the intense green, "It doesn't exist anymore. It burned in a war, because of me."

"Oh…I'm sorry." Clara murmured, staring at the way everything seemed to look, like a moving picture. The Doctor said nothing, his eyes conflicted, seemingly wanting to tear them back from this place but never leave. He looked over at her and she smiled before shifting closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her head on his chest. He tensed but slowly relaxed, Clara's fingers fiddling with his, stroking them comfortingly.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, staring at the sky.

"It was." The Doctor murmured, his eyes moving around him. Clara kept her eyes on the sky, the beautiful shifting of red to orange, from orange to yellow and back to red once more. It seemed to burn already. She watched as the stars danced, so enthralled she almost don't hear the Time Lord beneath her if it wasn't for the deep vibrations of his chest. He reached an audible pitch, the timbre sounding hollow in her ear against his chest, and she could feel the arm he had wrapped around her tighten.

"_Land of the Bear and_

_Land of the Eagle._

_Land that gave us birth_

_And blessing,_

_Land that pulled us_

_Ever homeward._

_We will go home across the mountains,_

_We will go home,_

_We will go ho-me,_

_We will go home."_

Clara held him, letting the beautiful depth and emotions of his voice wrap around her. She pressed herself against his side, closing her eyes. She had a home. She had her fears. And from the way he had talked to her, he understood.

But the Doctor had no home and he had nightmares, nightmares that far exceeded the sight she had seen on the Russian sub two days ago. How long had it been, she wondered, since Gallifrey burned? Since his kind died out? How long had it been since he had a companion to lessen the sting?

He'd protect her, as he had in the sub, as he would for many adventures to come. As she held him, she resolved from here on to be brave and to prevent as many deaths as she could. She would prove herself as a good companion. He had seen too much, enough. They both had.

"_We will go home singing our song,_

_We will go home across the mountains,_

_We will go home_

_Hear our singing, hear our longing,_

_We will go home across the mountains..."_

His voice trailed off as he felt Clara's breathing steady. Looking down he found her fast asleep, her fingers curled around one of his braces. A smile grazed his features and he settled against her, brushing a strand of hair off her features, lightly. He knew his home was gone and his nightmares remained. But staring at Clara, he also knew her home was here, on the TARDIS, with him. She was still a mystery, but regardless of what she was, he would try his hardest to keep her nightmares away, and keep her where she belonged. He would keep her home.

**Reviews?**


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